


You'll go to hell for what you did

by GingerHoran



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Death, Heartbreak, M/M, Murder, Sad, criminal, dangerous love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 16:55:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerHoran/pseuds/GingerHoran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The roses are blue, and are dying like the light in Niall's eyes.</p><p>He's got people to hold his hand but it's not the same, doesn't feel as warm or safe, they say they'll protect him but they can't stop the nightmares or the memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'll go to hell for what you did

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Listened to Nude by Radiohead and this appeared.  
> I'm again gifting this to you WhoisAlaska, because you were also in mind whilst writing this mess, hope you don't hate me.

The room used to be a pristine white and smelt of the fresh blue roses that sat on the window sill, they had always let off a soft fragrant scent that attracted crawling bugs and bees. The room was alive.

Now the roses are wilted in the corner, the petals are torn and a few are dappled on the window sill like silky blue tears. The walls are crying, deep gashes of blood are scraped into the wall and they run to the floor creating a sticky pool of death. The smell is overwhelming, metallic and pungent and burning, no more life enters the room anymore.

Niall doesn't believe in God anymore, when he cried and begged for pain he got no assistance, the boy he loved is gone, he doesn't even know what to feel anymore.

He's got people to hold his hand but it's not the same, doesn't feel as warm or safe, they say they'll protect him but they can't stop the nightmares or the memories. They can't stop him from tearing out his hair at the images, at the memories of the blood and the sounds of screams, his heart was stripped of its veins and it's beating right in front of his eyes.

The eyes that have since discoloured, they have since turned a dark coal, there's no emotion within them, no mirth or anger, no pretty blue that matched those flowers that sat on the windowsill, dying.

+

Police sirens in the background isn't really the most fitting occasion to meet the love of your life, there's rain and it's pouring like a storm, and the moon is hidden behind ruffled black clouds, but Niall's glowing.

Occasionally Niall would fall in love, it was like a cycle of bad relationships into even worse ones, there'd be tears, and trashed hearts and jealous glances, but he'd eventually get over it and meet another boy with just as much danger in their eyes as the the one before.

Zayn was different though he wasn't just dangerous, he was criminal but this didn't deter Niall at all, it only made his heart race quicker and his pulse pump faster and everything become that bit more interesting.

Niall felt like he was on a constant high with Zayn, the kisses seemed to leave him breathless for days, those dark eyes made him convulse, and the sirens made him buzz with energy and fire. He was more than infatuated or addicted, it was just more.

Zayn's hard to put into words, he's gritty and emotionless one second, then he's fluent and bouncing the next, he's like liquor, hard to swallow at first but once you start you can't stop.

Even Niall found it hard to digest the nights in cheap hotel rooms as they were chased by cops in the moonlight. Or the days where they hid in the basements of men with bloodshot eyes and dirty grins, who greedily accepted the notes that Zayn slapped in their hands, like pigeons to breadcrumbs.

But the gun was always secure in Zayn's back pocket, a heavy hand clasped to Niall's like a promise of never letting go.

He never actually did let go.

+

The clash in the kitchen is loud, and it startles Niall from an unsettling sleep, and he braces against the wooden bed frame knowing that he should get the gun from the bed side table to defend himself, the one he promised Zayn he would use, but he can't seem to move.

A shadow floats across the room and Niall scrunches up his eyes as if it would deter the man with the pocketknife or the psycho with a chainsaw that'd come to murder him.

"Sweetheart? Its just me," Zayn murmurs softly, and Niall can't help but sniffle rather solemnly and crawl across the bed and into his boyfriends arms.

"You're back," he says with a small smile that only gets a little wider out of pure selfishness when a damp kiss is pressed to his forehead.

Zayn's silent for a few moments and Niall knows he's keeping something from him, he doesn't pry though, he doesn't want to cause an argument.

"Babe," Zayn starts off as he lays Niall down onto the bed with a hand at the curve of his spine and crawls over into his lap, both legs bracketing his narrow waist.

The light is still switched off so Zayn's face is only partially illuminated by the moonlight and from what Niall can see there are a few new scars dappled onto his skin, he touches them softly with the tips of his finger, before pressing a light kiss to a bruise that's still healing on the base of jaw.

Everything after that is pretty much a blur, they make love slowly and deeply and Niall feels the sensations rooted into the darkest corners of his body, it's beautiful and sensational and it's another goodbye to another temporary home.

+

  
"Where are we going?" Niall can't help but ask as they're speeding across a country road in a stolen black Audi. Zayn breathes out a sigh, moving his hand from the clutch to grip Niall's knee, it's more than words can say, so instead of trying to pry open a jar with his fingernails he just tips his head onto the cool glass and stares out onto the never ending corn fields and stars.

"Why do you do this to me?" Niall questions one night his face buried into a pillow so he doesn't have to see the anger in Zayn's eyes, the disappointment of mistrust mixed with darkened hazel.

Zayn frowns, he's never really been good with saying words, they all conjoin like a perfect puzzle in his mind but when trying to explain anything it always seems to come up jumbled.

"You can leave if you want, that's always been an option." Zayn assures, or what he hopes is the words that Niall wants to hear, what Niall needs to hear. But to be truthfully honest, Niall is the only thing keeping Zayn going at the moment, otherwise he'd have lost his mind to the blood on his knife and the madness in the world he works within.

But Zayn is his home, his warmth, his lover. Without him the fire in his soul would burn out and nobody would ever be able to relight it, and without a soul, Niall would just wither away into ash on the end of a cigarette.   
  
"I won't leave you. I promise." He whispers after what seemed like eras of silence. Zayn only nodded, thoughts exploding like fireworks in his brain, he was going to be left or forgotten, he'd damaged Niall too much.

There is never a routine with Zayn, Niall can never expect one, all he can expect is the squirming in his stomach from soft kisses, the knuckles under his chin when he's crying from homesickness and the constant truths of love.

He places a gun into his holster one night, two pocket knifes folded into the pockets of his suit jacket that Niall had freshly ironed in the wash room of the hotel. Zayn's grins wide in the mirror even for a man that sometimes returns with blood on his hands and no extra bullets, it's surprising how soft he can be, his heart especially.

"Don't wait up." He mutters, of course he leans in to press a kiss to Niall's lips which takes away a few seconds of his breath.

Niall doesn't plan on getting very drunk when Zayn's gone, but this time for some odd reason there's something in the pit of his stomach telling him that he'll need to forget something in the future, he pours himself glasses of sprite and vodka until he passes out.

+

"What are you still doing with that blond piece of shit, boss?"

Zayn laughed contemptuously and leant back further into his dated leather chair, staring with a cocked eyebrow at his alliance who had just questioned him most rudely.

He fingered the small knife in his pocket and smirked as it burned the tips of his fingers in want, the anger was only just building in his chest.

He hummed another short laugh, standing up and casually walking around the oak wood desk covered in paperwork and photographs.

"Oh, I really don't know Alex. I don't know what I'm doing with that blond piece of shit!" He spat, slowly dragging the knife along the underside seam of the mans pants, watching as his eyes froze.

Smiling sadistically, he loved this part, he pushed the knife into the mans throat slitting straight past his vocal chords so he could not scream as the blood flowed into his collarbones.

The life left his eyes, and Zayn pressed the knife sharper into his throat watching as hot blood dribbled down his wrist and onto his clean white shirt, staining it with the scent of death,

I'm going to hell for this, he thought as sank down onto his knees and stared at the bloody corpse that had made it's transition to the burning pits of hell at his hands, because everything he touched belonged alongside the devil because that's who he was.

Niall was painted white that night, Zayn dipped his fingers into the white paint bucket with swirls of yellow and pale blue and dragged it down the chest of his lover. Niall held back tears at the crazy eyes of his boyfriend, they were pure black, pure evil and there wasn't a sign of the man he fell in love with.

"You're an angel Niall," Zayn whispered with a hysteric laugh and a clap of his hands, and Niall nodded through his clogged throat.   
"But I'm the devil." He stated with a stoic face, eyes ridden of any former life, and Niall knew that the death had gotten to him, too much blood was on his hands.

Zayn smiled again but it didn't cause any butterflies to flutter their wings inside his rib cage, and he winced as Zayn nuzzled into the column of his throat and dug his fingers into his hips.

They fell asleep to the usual nightmares, and whilst Niall would often wake up to a soft hushing in his ear or a few damp kissed apologies, he woke up to those dark, clouded insane eyes which sacred him far more than his terrors.

+

Niall was sat frozen on the bed, they were where Zayn had grown up, in this exact room with the white washed walls, and the large bed. On the window sill were a bunch of pretty blue roses which matched his own eye colour, Zayn had brought them round with a large grin and shaking hands and Niall couldn't turn the them away.

Niall wanted to run but ever time he tried the dark hallway seemed to stretched further and further, and the words of goodbye would clog up in his throat almost choking himself with the lie he'd be telling. Muscles would be strained and he'd give into those dark eyes, and he would hold back the tears as he sat on the bloodied bathroom floor to clean up the battle scars of his lover.

"I love you," Zayn whispered dragging a knife across his pale chin, his whiskey breath fanning over his face and making him gag on the inside.

"I love you so fucking much," he murmured tears running down his face and Niall nodded the tears making their way down his face, wet and hot and truthful.

Zayn dropped his knife onto the bed watching it splatter blood on the clean white sheets making a dirty portrait of death on the bed.  
Niall was still, some unknown force glueing him to the spot where he was laying on the bed, he felt cold as Zayn dragged his body on top of him.

One hand came to grip his waist whilst the other choked his throat.  
"I love you baby," Zayn sobbed as he began to kiss all over his body his fingers tightening around his throat with every boiling press of his lips.

Niall felt scolding all over, like he was sitting in the burning pits of fire, the air leaving his lungs; so he closed his eyes and imagined floating along the ocean with the sun warmly beating onto his chest and the sky fluttering with birds and clouds, and the air flowing freely around his lungs.

Suddenly there was no more air, and he struggled underneath the hands of his lover, feeling teeth scraping along his throat and around where his skin was turning red from pressure.

His eyes flickered beside him, the knife sat glistening with a dabble of some poor souls blood just waiting to be jammed into the heart of a boy who'd lost him mind.

The seconds on his life clock were ticking by and Niall's hand darted out to grapple at the knife his heart taking it's last few beats.

Zayn loosed his grip just as the knife was shoved into his chest just missing his heart, the blood spreading like venom across his already bloody white shirt.

Niall gasped his next few breaths, staring at disbelief at the knife shaking in his hand.

"I-I.." He muttered through broken sobs, and Zayn pressed a finger to his lips and rolled over with a groan pulling Niall into his chest and making both of them sticky with the blood pulsing out of him.

It seemed as though that as life seeped out of him, his eyes returned to that soft whiskey brown, and his heart stutteringly beat to that same rhythm and he was actually human, not the devil incarnate with dead mans blood on his hands.

"It's okay baby, stop crying. I love you, okay? M'just going to sleep." He whispered weakly as tears dappled his shirt, he didn't stop the soft feathery movement of his finger on Niall's lower back until his last shaky breath.

+

Niall liked the rain, it would disguise your salty tears even if they ran down your face like a waterfall and burnt through your skin as it did so, nobody would ever be able to tell.

Those blue flowers were dappled across his black headstone like flowery tears, they were wet and damaged in the pouring rain, but as Niall stood above the grave his hands in his pockets and the rain slashing across his face it seemed like a fitting image.

The flowers were almost a lie now, since his eyes were no longer that pretty pale blue, but he had no heart to replace them, and he knew Zayn loved them, so he lay them on his grave.

He just hoped the boy was waiting for him in the fiery pits of hell with a bucket of white paint.

 


End file.
